Author: Norman Blake
Billy Gray rode into Gantry way back in ’83
There he first met with young Sarah McClean
The wild flower of morning, the rose of the dawning
She heralded springtime in Billy’s life that day
Sarah she could not see the daylight of reality
In her young eyes Billy bore not a flaw
Knowing not her chosen one he was a bad man
Wanted in Kansas City by the law
Until one day a tall man came riding from the badlands
That lie to the north of New Mexico
He was overheard to say he was looking for Billy Gray
A dangerous man and a wanted outlaw
Word came creeping to Billy who lay sleeping
There in the Clarendon Bar and Hotel
He ran to the old church that lies on the outskirts
Thinking he might hide in the old steeple bell
A rifle ball came flying, Billy lay dying
There on the dust of the road where he lay
Sarah ran to him she was cursing the lawman
Poor girl knew no reason why Billy had been killed
Sarah still lives in that old white frame house
Where she first met Billy some forty years ago
The wild flower of morning has faded with the dawning
Of each day of sorrow the long years have grown
Written on a stone where the dusty winds have long blown
Eighteen words to a passing world you did say
True love knows no season no rhyme or no reason
Justice is cold as the Grainger County Clay